


Preserving Sweet

by ratherbefree



Series: Community Rarepairs [1]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, but really its more of a, theatre kids au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbefree/pseuds/ratherbefree
Summary: “Romeo and Juliet, guys!” He repeats. A couple of people half-heartedly attempt a yay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> high school au, because why not. tentatively saying this'll be 3 chapters but idk
> 
> (also in this universe britta and annie are close enough in age to have went to high school together idk) (+ title from: _"What is it else? a madness most discreet / A choking gall and a preserving sweet.") ___

Their drama teacher deliberately draws out the announcement for the winter play, posting silly notices with clues written in comic sans all around the school and slipping random lines into his closing speeches at the end of class every day. 

Annie can tell after the third day of this that it’s gonna be _Romeo And Juliet_ , which is just about the most cliched high school experience she’ll probably ever have. (Aside from the bullying, which - Well. Sometimes she feels like she’s a character in a reject John Hughes movie, unreleased to the public because it just didn’t have the comfortable, hopeful ending everyone expected, and if that isn’t a high school cliche she doesn’t know what is.)

But none of that really matters, because the idea of putting on the play is entirely laughable. With their 12-people, all-girl theatre club it’s just not possible. Though she wonders briefly if there’ll perhaps be open casting calls, in the end she just doubts anyone will sign up. Riverside High is definitely the type of school firmly set in their traditions, and she can’t imagine any of the hyper-masculine boys in the upper years will voluntarily stand on stage in tights and robes and wax poetic about how beautiful the poor girl chosen to play Juliet is.

When the day finally comes for the announcement to officially take place, she filters into the stuffy little room with the rest of her class, and already gets the impression that most if not all of the people in the room know exactly what’s coming. There’s talk from the back of who’ll be signing up for Juliet, the expected difficulty of line memorisation, and whether roles will be combined or omitted due to their lack of sufficient cast members. 

So when Mr. Pelton strolls in, all happy-go-lucky excited to finally tell his students about the news, he definitely seems more than a little disappointed when no one reacts with surprise. 

_“Romeo and Juliet,_ guys!” He repeats.

A couple of people half-heartedly attempt a _yay._  

Deflated, the teacher just slumps down into his desk chair, mumbling something about sign-up sheets being posted within the next week and assigning them the task of ‘accent practice’ for the rest of the lesson. 

* * *

When her guidance counsellor suggested padding out her college application with some extracurricular activities, drama club was the last thing on Britta’s list. 

(Actually, scratch that. It didn’t even _make_ the list. Like, if the list were a high school basketball team, _drama club_ would be the weedy, scrawny little kid sitting on the bench and occasionally delivering bottles of water to the guys who were actually buff enough to make the team. Like, it was _that far_ from the list.) 

So it’s a surprise when the sign-up sheet for _Romeo And Juliet_ is the poster she finds herself most drawn to on the notice board. But it’s for the main parts - Juliet, Romeo, Mercutio, and the Nurse - and, despite the fact that the sheet specifically says that people _of any gender_ can sign up for each role, she can’t help but notice that the names listed under _Romeo_ are all of the male variety. 

(Not that she judges people’s gender on their names! Just, well. It’s safe to assume they might probably be dudes. Probably. Not definitely, though! - Anyway.)

Before she really realises what she’s doing, she’s adding her name to the bottom of the list. Directly under Garrett Lambert, which, really, she’d be doing the whole school a favour by competing against _him_ to get the part, because who actually wants to listen to him wheezing his way through 2 hours’ worth of dialogue? - No one.

Besides, she tries to reassure herself once the regret starts to set in (sometime during History, when the lesson is boring enough that she can just let her mind wander) it’s not as if she has a real chance of getting the part. With no action experience and the slacker impression she tends to give off, it’s pretty unlikely that any competent drama teacher would see her name and even consider giving her the role.

* * *

_“'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he / And, pretty fool, it stinted and said ‘Ay.’"_ Annie finishes up the monologue with a hand movement that she aims to be a flourish but probably ends up looking like a limp attempt at giving Mr. Pelton the finger. 

The aforementioned remains silent for a minute or so, jotting things down on a scrap of paper, before finally looking back up and regarding her for a moment. 

It definitely looks like he's about to say something quite important, so Annie steels herself for the worst scenario.

But nothing happens. 

Mr. Pelton stutters something that sounds vaguely like _“we’ll get back to you in a week,”_ checks his phone, flushes bright red, and abruptly ushers Annie out the room. Well, then.

“Are the auditions still going on?” The girl standing by the door looks red-faced and out of breath, practically panting as she speaks. 

“Um,” she hesitates. “You could ask. I’m not really sure. He kinda shoved me out of there.” 

The blonde girl gives a sharp, jutting nod. “I’ll wait around, I guess.”

Annie nods, not knowing what else to say. “Cool. Uh. Good luck!” The last part comes out sounding more like a question, and she can’t help wincing a little in embarrassment. 

“Thanks!” 

But she hardly hears her; too busy scurrying off down the hall. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Britta needs help with her lines, and Annie gets a ride home.

Mr. Pelton posted the cast listing on the front of the drama room door a month ago, and when she had initially read the two names written under the Nurse, Annie's heart sank.

Now, with rehearsals already beginning, she knows it's silly to still be sad about not getting the part she wanted. After all, in the end it's not as though she was completely rejected. Mr. Pelton approached her after class just 2 weeks ago asking her to be the understudy as well as working the tech. Despite the fact that she highly doubts either of the girls will be off sick anytime soon (Annie Kim, in particular, has the same attendance rate as she does) she's already got a few pages' worth of lines memorised. 

Besides, working on the play is a lot of fun. While the other kids involved aren't friends, not exactly, not in the happy-fun-sleepovers kind of way she would have liked, they're plenty friendly (with the exception of course of Annie Kim, being the irritating, over-achieving freshman that she is) and she's even swapped numbers with a couple of the girls. 

One of which happens to be Britta Perry. 

Or - okay, well, _technically_ they didn't really swap numbers. Britta left hers on a post-it note and said that if anyone needed to contact her, they could take it. 

And sure, Annie doesn't - necessarily - need to contact Britta. But what if there's a. A tech emergency? Or something goes wrong with the show, and Britta's nowhere to be found, and everyone's cellphones are disabled apart from Annie's, and Mr. Pelton wants to call her, somehow? What then?

There’s plenty of situations where she would need Britta’s number, even if it’s not completely _essential_ right now, at this exact moment in time.

Speaking of, Britta’s been surprisingly nice to her so far, during the few occasions where they’ve spoken. Not that she expected her to be awful, but it’s just that - oh, sometimes the senior students can be quite dismissive to the kids in other grades; act like they’re better or more knowledgable than they really are… But Britta’s not like that, not at all. Though she’s sarcastic and ironic and sometimes rolls her eyes a little more than most people would, she’s also sincere, and genuine, and Annie feels her stomach jump a little whenever the other girl pays attention to her because it’s just sort of overwhelming, in the best way possible, that a person as cool as Britta Perry would ever give someone like Annie Edison the time of day.

It’s not something she’s used to. And, quite frankly, she wishes it would stop, because all it’s done so far is made her nervous and stutter-y and mess up her words. It’s embarrassing. 

At present, watching her perform on the makeshift ‘ _stage_ ’ (the front half of the classroom, separated off from the rest with a wall of plastic chairs) it’s hard to tear her eyes away for more than a moment to turn the page of her script. There’s a moment’s pause in the dialogue between ‘Romeo’ and ‘Benvolio’, enough for Annie to check the page, and then she realises. 

The awkward silence on stage, Mr. Pelton clearing his throat. 

Britta’s fudged her lines.

Garett-as-Benvolio repeats his line in a pointedly wheezing voice. _“No, coz, I rather weep.”_

The rest of the cast look on expectantly, but Britta seems to have frozen, just standing in place, seemingly unable to check her script. The anxiety in her eyes is something Annie finds all too familiar, and so she makes a quick decision. 

_“Good heart, at what?”_ She reads the line loudly, staring in Britta’s direction, hoping that she’ll understand.

Another split moment, and then she does, shaking her head a little as though she’s just been roused from a dream. _“Good heart, at what?”_ Her repetition is obvious, but her new confidence really rings out, letting the others know she’s okay now, she won’t mess up again. 

When Garett takes a little longer to stammer through his response, Britta shoots her a friendly, grateful smile. 

Annnnnd there goes Annie’s stomach again.

* * *

Britta tries to catch the girl - Angie, or something, right? She’s not really sure - after rehearsals, but she’s gone by the time Mr. Pelton finishes up his speech to her about “professionalism in the performing industry” along with pretty much the rest of the class.

 Feeling slightly dejected (hey, she’d wanted to thank her!), she packs up her backpack, gathers change for the bus, and pulls her jacket closer around her when she steps out into the early-October chill. 

It’s not until she makes her way to the top of the concrete stairs that she recognises the small figure sat at the bottom, resting their head against the stone pillar.

“Hey,” Britta starts, uncertainly.

The person startles, jumps a little, before turning around.

“Oh, it’s you!”

“Yeah.” The girl starts slowly, a suggestion of _“so, what?”_ in her tone.

Britta suddenly realises that she must look kinda creepy at the moment, standing tall a few steps above her, barely lit from the singular flickering streetlamp a few feet away, and takes a moment before speaking again to get down more to her level.

“I was looking for you,” and yeah, that doesn’t really help her cause of trying to be less weird, so she adjusts. “I mean, to thank you.”

“Oh?” 

Britta fixes the straps of her backpack, shuffling her feet a little for something to do. “Yeah. Like, I know I kinda froze up there today, and it was just really cool of you to help me out.” At her small smile, Britta addresses her. “Um, it’s Angie, right?”

“Annie.” 

“Right, right. Sorry.” 

Annie lifts an unbothered shoulder. “It’s fine.” 

Britta goes to fuss with her bag again before remembering that she’s done that already. “So, uh. What’re you still doing here? I thought everyone else left, like, 20 minutes ago.” 

“They did. I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up. She’s not answering her phone; I think she’s still at work or something.” She makes a face. “Maybe.”

“What, so you don’t have a ride?”

Annie shakes her head. 

And an idea strikes her. “Hey, do you want a lift? I have my car…”

“No, no, it’s okay.” An apologetic smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, ‘cause.” She takes in the scene; the other girl must only be a sophomore at the oldest, and the thin hoodie she’s clutching round herself can’t provide all that much protection against the cold. “It’s freezing.” 

“Really-“

“I don’t mind. Seriously.” She wonders why she’s going to this much effort in her offer to drive her home. “Like, you probably don’t live too far away, right?”

“No…” From the hesitancy in her voice, Britta thinks she might be relenting. “North Riverside.”

She does a mental calculation, and, okay, yeah, it’ll probably add another 20 minutes or so onto her journey time, but really, that’s nothing. “That’s pretty much on my way.” She lies.

“You’re sure?”

“Definitely.” Jerking her head towards the parking lot in what she hopes is an inviting sort of way, she adds, “Come on, before we freeze to death.” 

“Um,” Annie casts one last look at her phone before shouldering her bag and standing, timidly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Britta waits a second while Annie fumbles, then together they fall into step. “That’s my car there.” 

* * *

“Have you got keys and everything? It doesn’t look like anyone’s in.” She knows she’s sounding like a big sister and for some reason hates it.

“Yeah,” Annie fishes around in the pocket of her hoodie for a moment before retrieving the aforementioned keys. There’s a fluffy purple heart-shaped keychain attached to the little metal ring and she can’t help it, Britta finds it kind of adorable. 

The car rumbles to a stop (or, okay, it’s more like a stutter than a rumble, but the car is old and rusting and _rumbling_ just sounds so much better) and Annie waits a respectable moment, profusely thanking her again and gathering up her bag, and it’s not until she’s left the car and turning to walk up her driveway that Britta picks up the courage to ask what’s been on her mind since she stood at the front of the class and repeated the line.

“Hey, wait!” She scrambles to roll down the window.

“What?” Annie asks.

“I was wondering, I mean.” Takes a moment to breathe, and she continues, “You seem to be pretty confident with the script, right?” 

There’s a flash of confusion across her face until she apparently realises what Britta’s talking about. “I guess so.”

“Well, I’m not. As you probably know by now.” 

She makes a noncommittal sound.

“And I was thinking. Well, only if you want to - Would you be able to run lines with me sometime?”

“Oh! Um.” 

“No pressure, obviously. But I just thought, ‘cause, I don’t really know many people in the play and you seem cool, so…” 

Annie makes a noise that might be a squeak. “No, yeah! I mean. Sure, I’d love that. Not love. I’d - I’d like that. Uh.” With a quick nod, she finishes up, “That’d be great!” 

Feeling more than a little amused at her nervousness, Britta kicks the engine into life again. “You have my number, right?”

Another nod.

“Cool, so. Text me!” 

“I will!”

There’s a sort of awkward silence while Britta tries to think of a way to wrap up the conversation. 

But in the end she doesn’t have to. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“Right, yeah. See you tomorrow!” 

Annie gives a short little wave and steps back a bit to give the car room to move, and Britta finds herself imitating her just before she pulls away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"With a month to go until the final dress rehearsal of the play, it’s safe to say that anxieties are riding high."_

With a month to go until the final dress rehearsal of the play, it’s safe to say that anxieties are riding high. While Annie feels like she’s (mostly) prepared - she knows all her lines and is at this point definitely confident with the lighting controls - it’s still kind of difficult not to get swept up in the nervousness of it all. 

Especially considering she’s now spending many hours every week with the most worried person in the entire production.

Despite all their practice sessions, Britta still has trouble sometimes. And it is _sometimes -_ see, she hasn’t forgotten a line in over a week - but it appears that the whole idea of the play is freaking her out. 

Especially the scene they haven’t yet approached, the scene Britta’s far too scared to approach. Act 5, scene 3.

But they reached the end of scene 1 when they were practicing last, and it’s pretty likely they’ll get to the dreaded scene by the time they’re done with today’s session. 

“So, scene 2?” Annie prompts when Britta makes her way down the stairs. They’ve been practicing in Britta’s basement recently; partly due to the overly-watchful eye of Annie’s mother and partly due to the fact that Britta’s own parents are away after school.

“Right.” She flicked through her script, Annie waiting, until a frown appeared on her face. “Doesn’t look like there are any Romeo lines in scene 2.” 

“Really?” Annie checked her own script - and, sure enough, there it was - just a short scene containing pretty much only Friars John and Laurence. “Oh.”

“Um.”

“I guess we should just move onto scene 3.” It sounds like a question and she really doesn’t want her doubt to show through but it definitely does, because she knows what’s coming up next and Britta clearly does also and this might just end up being the most awkward afternoon of her life. 

“Okay, then,” it helps a little that Britta seems just as nervous as she is. _“Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron…”_

* * *

“Oh, um, so Paris dies in this part.”

“Guess you’ve gotta fake death then.” 

“Really?”

Britta nods, knowingly. “Make it extra dramatic.” 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yep.” 

With an eyeroll, “ _o, I am slain!”_ Annie grabs blindly at her side with the hand not holding the script. Attempting to channel the physical pain, she gasps, _“If thou be merciful / Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.”_ All too aware of Britta’s giggling, she amps it up a little - adds a few comical groans of hurt and finally, when she’s on the brink of laughing herself, collapses from the couch to the floor, arm over her face. 

“That was amazing, oh god.” Britta manages to get out between snorts. “I think we should take a break right now - there’s no way I’ll get through the next few lines until I’ve had time to digest this performance.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

* * *

20 minutes later, their drinks fizzing away on the coffee table, they pick up their scripts again. The next section begins with a long Romeo monologue, and Britta tries to recite it all from memory. _“In faith, I will. Let me pursue this face. Mercutio’s kinsman…”_

Annie sits back in the cushions, reading along in her copy. Britta’s getting it all right for the most part; only having to pause and check her lines a few times in the 50-some lines of text. Again, it’s a dramatic scene - Romeo’s final scene, in fact, and she’s nailing it. There’s something about her performance - Britta, despite her slacker reputation, actually seems to put a lot of work into her projects, and this is no exception. She’s a natural. And even though Annie’s still pretty aware of their surroundings - the dimly-lit basement with it’s grey brick walls and damp spots in the corners - it all sort of fades away. She can see Britta on stage int he final performance of the play, dressed up and in character and blowing the audience away. 

_“Ah, dear Juliet, that unsubstantial death is-“_

“You missed a line.” Annie folds the page over to point at the text. “It’s, _ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet…”_

“Right, right, yeah.” She shakes her head a little before checking the script for herself. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Annie can’t help but smile a little as Britta goes back to the monologue. 

It’s only a couple of minutes until they get to the part they’ve both feared, and if she’s honest with herself, Annie wasn’t even really thinking about it; didn’t notice until Britta starting fidgeting and stuttered to a stop in the speech. ( _“Arms, take your last embrace, and. And - uh.”)_

And sure enough there it is. The stage directions glaring up at her. _He kisses JULIET._

“Y’know, there’s no need to be nervous.” Annie starts, trying to be comforting but worrying it sounds more ‘sweetly patronising’ than anything else.

 “I know, I know.” Britta collapses to the couch, runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just, I’m gonna have to _kiss a girl._ On stage. In front of everyone.” 

She’s not really sure why she bristles. “It won’t be that different from kissing a guy.” 

Britta tilts her head, confused for a moment, before realising. “No, that’s not what I meant! I mean. It’ll make no difference _who_ it is. I’m not being - whatever. Really. I just don’t. Um.”

“What?”

“I’ve only ever kissed dudes.”

“Oh.” This is definitely…uncharted territory. “Well… Probably Vicki hasn’t, either.” 

“Maybe.” 

There’s a painful pause for a second. It’s a little surprising - Britta always gives off the impression that she’s far more experienced than Annie is, but she guesses this is one situation where the opposite is true. 

(She remembers her first kiss - an end-of-fifth grade sleepover with all of her friends, and someone suggested practicing making out; an idea presumably copied from a TV show or some 11-year-old equivalent of _Cosmo._ It was dark and sound of nervous giggles filled the air, and after it happened, the other girl joked about how she hoped her parents never found out. Annie had to cover her face with a cool pillow to hide her blush. 

Since then, she hasn’t felt anything else like it - her last kiss, with a boy in her freshman algebra class had been hard and unrelenting, his chapped lips against hers and his tongue down her throat. With girls it’s a lot better. Softer, more gentle. Nicer.

But that's not something she thinks about all that much.) 

“I just don’t want to. You know. Do it for the first time, in front of the entire school. I don’t have a problem with the… The act itself.” Britta sticks her chin out defiantly. 

A suggestion to remedy that immediately pops into Annie’s mind, but she stays quiet another moment; waits to see if Britta asks herself. She has to ask.

“Perhaps…”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, like I said, I don’t want my first time to be in front of everyone.” 

“…Right.” At this point it’s pretty clear to Annie that she’s dropping hints, but still - it can’t hurt to be cautious.

“And I just. Um.” Britta clears her throat. “Could we maybe…”

“Hm?”

“Could we just. If it’s okay with you. Could we…try it out?” 

“Try it out.”

“Yeah. Only if you want to!”

Annie nods, fighting the smile on her face. She doesn’t want to make Britta any more uncomfortable than she already is, but there’s just something about the whole experience - having the chance to kiss the coolest person she knows - that has her uncontrollably grinning. “Sure.”

“Wait, really? You’re fine with this?” She sounds disbelieving, 

“ _Yes,_ oh my god.” It takes some effort not to point out the obvious to her, but instead, after a moment’s deliberation, she places her hand on Britta’s arm. It’s strange that _she_ ’s the one taking control in this, and she isn’t exactly sure what’s she’s doing, but slowly, she leans forward. Britta sort of sits there frozen - not out of fear or anxiety, she doesn’t think, but more so in anticipation - and she understands because she feels the same way. 

With the first brush of their lips Britta melts a little, relaxes. It takes a second but then she’s smiling against Annie’s mouth, one hand sneaking round to find hers. 

They part and Annie can already feel her cheeks burning, so she moves away and shakes her head and holds back a giggle.

“I’ve wanted to do that since act 1,” Britta confesses, and then Annie doesn’t hold back anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, this is it!! thanks for reading!!!

**Author's Note:**

> written for CommunityRarepairs Event 2016.


End file.
